


The Library Populare

by PolarPenguin



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera, Community: makinghugospin, Kink Meme, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarPenguin/pseuds/PolarPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The Creepy Word Puzzle?” Joly asked.<br/>“Don't you think it's just your co-workers making fun of you. Sort of a welcome-ritual?”Bahorel continued.<br/>“It could be. I asked Cosette, she's another librarian, and she said it was her,” Jehan looked uncertain.<br/>“Or,” Grantaire began, “she was covering for someone,” he said with a smirk. <br/>“What do you mean “someone”?”<br/>“Haven't you two ever heard of-,” Grantaire took his glass and drank to make a rhetorical pause. “The Phantom?”</p><p>----<br/>Or; Jehan gets a new job at a library where Combeferre is living. Jehan's writing catches Combeferre's attention, reading this new and fresh poetry attracts him to Jehan. He then tries to coax the poet out of his shell.<br/>Only problem for Combeferre is Courfeyrac, who grew up with Jehan and has every intention of spending his life with the poet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vesperify](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperify/gifts).



> Prompt: I was just thinking maybe a situation where Combeferre is living in a library for some reason, but people don't see him and, where some people know he's there, others think of him as a sort of ghost that haunts the building. Most people dismiss this. Jehan ends up working at the library, and, of course, he's a poet. He writes. A lot. Sometimes on the walls, if he gets desperate enough to get them out. This catches Combeferre's attention. Someone who lives in a library is probably rather well-versed on all sorts of topics, but reading something so genuine and fresh attracts him to the poet. However, not being one to use force, he slowly coax the shy man out of his shell.   
> On the other hand, we've got Courfeyrac, who grew up with Jehan and knows him like the back of his hand, and he has every intention of spending his life with the poet.  
> -  
> The Kink Meme, Making Hugo Spin, round 4, page 10

 ”Well, Monsieur Prouvaire, all your papers appear to be good. You have experience of working in a library,” Valjean, the head of the library administration, looked over his reading glasses for confirmation.

”Yes, I volunteered at the library in my school,” Jean Prouvaire, the hopeful applicant for the position at the library, answered.

Valjean nodded, “Yes, good. I see you have studied English Literature, always a plus when one work with books, you are clearly enthusiastic when it comes to your work,” he referred to the number of good references from former employees. “There's nothing that tells me I shouldn't hire you,” he smiled kindly and took his glasses off and laid them on the desk separating him from the young applicant.

Jean Prouvaire beamed, “Thank you! When can I start?”

“First, I would like to give you a tour of our library, just to make sure you really want to work here. Then meet some of our other staff. After that we can talk contract and so.” Valjean stood up and gestured to the door, “Let's start at the front desk.”

* * *

The front desk was located in the lobby, a large room to say the least. Jehan had, of course, been there many times being a rapid and enthusiastic reader of almost all genres. He loved the feeling of entering the library. It was almost as if entering another world. There was a staircase immediately when one entered through the grand doors leading up the lobby. To the left was a door labeled “Staff Only” - probably storage for the books the main library couldn't fit. In a notch beside the door, was a machine for returning books with self-service. To the right of the lobby, was another notch, larger than the first, with shelves for reserved books for people to collect.

A loud crash followed by a string of curses pulled the young man out of his admiration for the place.

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” a man said from behind the front desk. His waving hand with a cast on was the only thing that could be seen of him.

“This is Lesgle,” Valjean introduced with a loving sigh. “Bossuet, this is our, hopefully, newest branch of our staff, if he chooses to work here, Jean Prouvaire.”

The man now standing behind the counter, looking a bit bewildered, smiled brightly at the newcomer. He began to move towards the two men when he fell over, what appeared – to Jean Prouvaire's eyes, nothing.

“Shoot!” He exclaimed, before gaining his balance and arriving in front of them. “Hi, my pleasure. Please, just call me Bossuet. That's what everyone does.” He smiled brightly as he shook the younger man's hand.

“Hi, the pleasure's all mine. I'm called Jehan by mostly everyone.” He smiled at Lesgl- no, Bossuet. His expression turned more serious. “Are you okay?”

Bossuet laughed, “Oh, I'm fine. I just fell over a few books I'd dropped. That's what happens when you only have one hand,” he waved the casted arm in the air. “Don't worry, happens all the time.”

Jehan nodded a bit uncertain, “O-okay, if you say so.”

“Yes, so this is the front desk. This is, as you know, where we serve and help those who need it. You know how it works. It's only our IT-system you will have to learn how works. Our IT-technician is not at work today, but as soon as he comes, I'll let him teach how it works.” Valjean explained.

“It's not a difficult system at all,” Bossuet interjected. “Even I can work it without crashing it or clearing our database. You'll learn it quickly, Feuilly's a great teacher.”

Valjean began to slowly lead Jehan forward to get into the main library. “”Exactly, now if you'll excuse us. Jehan here needs to meet Cosette.”

“Of course, I'll just get these books under control,” Bossuet waved goodbye to Jehan who returned the wave.

* * *

 

The main library was a huge circular room with a line of computers in the middle and bookcases around the electronic area and the librarian's desk at the end of the computer row. A few couches and other chairs were placed around the room. At the walls were higher bookcases, except in one place, to the left where an opening led to the children's section. Looking up one could see additional three floors, with regular openings to both take advantage of the light from the window above and for the borrowers to look out at the rest of the library. At the librarian's desk was a young woman, whom Jehan could only assume to be Cosette.

“Cosette,” Valjean caught the attention of the young woman who stood up and walked to meet them at the entrance. “Cosette, this is Jean Prouvaire. He's hopefully going to start working here soon,” Valjean introduced. “Jehan, this is my daughter, Cosette,” he continued.

The two shook hands both smiling politely. “Daughter?” Jehan questioned.

“Yeah, you may know this is a newly renovated library. Papa funded the renovation and got permission to hire whoever he wanted. I've always like the atmosphere in a library and I like books, so here I am,” Cosette explained.

“Later, when people actually started to use our library – I remember seeing you around, always looking like you were in another world – we had to hire more staff. Hence Feuilly, in IT, he's making sure the website's running and all those things we don't understand. Enjolras, he's in administration with Papa, doing some finances and stuff _I_ don't understand. And you've met already Bossuet,” she looked to her father for confirmation and when she got a nod from him and Jehan she continued. “And now you.”

Jehan nodded. “I really like this place, I think I'd like to get started on the contract.”

Cosette looked ambivalent. ”You sure, you don't want to look around?”

”As you mentioned, I've been here many times before, but sure. I've always wanted to see what the room looked like from the librarian's chair,” Jehan smiled and bit his lip as a blush crept up his neck.

Cosette smiled affable. ”Please,” she pointed towards her chair. ”Knock yourself out.”

Jehan said his thanks and moved to the chair.

“Papa, don't you think we should-. Should we tell him about... you know?” Cosette whispered to her father as soon as Jehan was out of hearing range.

“No, he doesn't know about him. So why would we want to potentially scare him away? Besides, we haven't told Bossuet either, and he's fine. There's no need to tell.”

“I suppose you're right. The last one did leave after an unusually short amount of time. We need to keep this one a bit longer.”

Valjean squeezed his daughter's shoulder. “Exactly, and he's going to be fine. It's not like _he_ hurts anyone.”

Cosette smiled in return, and added in a hushed tone, “Not on purpose at least.”

Though the tone was teasing, Valjean could still hear the seriousness hidden beneath her words.

“Jehan won't even notice he's here,” he promised as said person returned.

“It's a lovely view,” Jehan smiled brightly. “As I said before, when do I start?”

* * *

Valjean took Jehan to the side building where the administration sat. Inside where two offices, one for Valjean, and the other for the financier, Enjolras. Valjean steered Jehan to Enjolras' office and knocked before entering. Inside was a young man, who couldn't be much older than Jehan, he was sitting at a desk typing away at a computer. He was surrounded by books and notes with seemingly random numbers and names.

“Just a moment, and I'll be there,” he said as he wrote. Valjean and Jehan waited in patience for him to finish. After what could only be a couple of minutes, but felt like an eternity, did Enjolras lean back on his chair with a satisfied smile. “There, how can I help you?” He looked up at Valjean and Jehan.

“Enjolras, Jean Prouvaire here need the contract we talked about.” Enjolras nodded in recognition of said contract. He began to look for a folder while Valjean finished his introduction. “And Jehan, this is Enjolras who takes care of all finances, including contracts and all those boring things.”

When Enjolras had found the folder mentioned beneath his desk, he stood up and walked to greet Jehan. “It's a pleasure to meet you,” he shook Jehan's hand enthusiastically. “Please have a seat.”

* * *

When Jehan exited the office, he had a new job. He had just signed the contract and was eager to begin working. He knocked on Valjean's door, and when he was given a quiet “Come in” he entered.

“Hello, we finished my contract. Where should I start working?” he asked his new employer.

Valjean looked at his watch. “There's only about an hour until we close. You can just start tomorrow, then we can give you a proper guide to working here. Come an hour before official opening time.”

“Okay, that sounds reasonable,” Jehan agreed.

He bid Valjean goodbye and was just on his way out of the door, when Cosette came running into her father's office. Panting she quickly explained something about a family emergency and how they have to leave _immediately_. Valjean gets up, goes to inform Enjolras, who still has some things to finish before he goes home, that he and Cosette has to leave and Jehan will close the library. When he says this, he quickly looks through the door to Jehan to see if it's okay. Jehan can see the worry and panic in his employer's eyes so he agrees. He did want to get started as soon as possible.

Valjean and Cosette gave him jointly a guide to how to close the library as they walked through it to get to the front desk where their coats and Cosette's bag was in a small room behind the desk. Before the left, they each gave him a note with their names and phone numbers. They quickly said their goodbye and told him that if he had any questions he could call them or go to Enjolras. Jehan thanked them, and assured them that it probably wouldn't be necessary.

They left and he was alone in the large library. He stood at the front desk, for the first time behind it, and examined the desk. He knew he wouldn't get very far with the electronic parts before the technician had given him a crash-course in the system. As he examined the desk and all the things on it, he noticed a note from Bossuet who gave him his number and e-mail. Jehan smiled at the kindness from all these new people as he typed in the four new numbers in his phone.

There were still a about half an hour until closing time when he was done examining the desk and he decided to move to sit in the circular room. He planted himself in the librarian's chair with his feet on the desk to admire the view of the architecture.

Before long the large clock on the wall told him it was time to close the library. Jehan first went to the children's section to make sure no one was being locked in, then took a round on the different floors to check them, and finally walked to the lobby, satisfied with no one else but him (and Enjolras in the side building) in the library. He closed and locked the doors before getting around to turn off the lights.

The switch for the lights of the children's section was just outside of the opening. When the lights were turned off he closed and locked those doors and turned around to clean up the circular room. The chairs had to be put up on the tables, and if any books were laying around they had to be returned to their proper place or the cart at the front desk so they could be returned the next day.

As he turned around, Jehan noticed a large pile of books on top of one of the tables. He was sure the pile had not been there before, but who could have put it there? He was alone, wasn't he? Only Enjolras was still at the library, and he was in the administration in the side building. Jehan looked around warming his arms to avoid the goosebumps. Indeed, there was no one but him. It was probably some borrowers, he hadn't noticed come, who didn't need the books after all who had left them and had left just as the library closed.

He relaxed, and as he walked to the pile of books, he couldn't help thinking that it was very rude to take, what appeared to be, around twenty books from the shelves and not return them. Though Jehan thought it unfair, he still accepted that he would have to return them to their proper places - it was after all his job. When he had maneuvered between all the tables and chairs and came to the pile he saw a note on top of it. It was folded in half and on the top it said, in a messy handwriting that reminded Jehan of a doctor's prescription,

 _To the new librarian_.

Jehan was quite certain that no one but him had been hired to ease the library's workload. He hesitated for a moment, and then opened the letter. In the same handwriting it said,

_First letter in the third word, seventh line, page 42. Every book._

Again, Jehan looked around when he had cracked the mystery of the almost unreadable letters. He was all alone in the library. He backed away from the letter and began to clean up the chairs and straighten the tables.

The young man was half tempted to just return the books to the cart, throw out the note and forget all about it, while the other part of him – a very insisting part – told him to get over himself, it was just a note on some books. It was probably one of the others who was playing a joke on him to make him feel welcome. It was nothing dangerous or creepy. And Jehan had to admit that he was, and had always been, a very curious being. He wondered what one of them could have to say in such a way. Perhaps a greeting?

Jehan left the chair he was putting on top of the table to go to the pile and find out when the other part, the same that told him to just forget it all, the logical part that had been nagging in the back of his head since he opened the note had him recall what Cosette's handwriting was like. It was pretty calligraphy, she wrote with the purpose of being read easily. Jehan felt the hairs on the back of his neck straighten as he recalled Valjean writing his contact information earlier. It was neat and readable, and, he recalled, Enjolras' had many notes laying around with different numbers and names in his office, all were written quickly and messy, but not like this. His letters were smaller to use the available space on the papers best. Bossuet's handwriting was also messy, but certainly not something you had to decipher.

Jehan quickly finished cleaning up and debated whether to leave the pile of books and return them the next day or get it done now. The side that told him that it would not make a good impression in his first day if he neglected to clean up properly won and he quickly walked to the pile to get it over with.

There were a bunch of different genres in the pile, some fiction – from horror to fantasy to classics – other non-fiction – from medicine to the Eco-system to the Roman empire if the titles were anything to go by. Whoever had been reading those books had an interest in everything.

Jehan took the first book in the pile. He recognized it as one of those classics school forced you to read. It itched in Jehan's fingers to find out what the letters could say. He opened it on page 42 and found the right letter. _W_. Curiosity and excitement rushed through his body, it couldn't possibly harm to find out what it said. He quickly found a piece of paper and a pen to write the letters down. After writing the first letter, he opened the rest of the books and found the appropriate letters. Once Jehan had disentangled the letters so that there were spaces so it made sense, it read:

_Welcome to my library!_

 


	2. Chapter 2

The day after, what Jehan had decided to call “The Creepy Word Puzzle” in his mind, he came an hour before the library opened and got his new work schedule from Valjean. Cosette and Bossuet had taken it upon themselves to give him a proper tour of how the library worked. They showed him the places closed to the public where books were sorted, wrapped in protective binding and the offices outside of the administration. Bossuet managed to stumble down the last couple of steps on their way to the book cellar where Cosette explained the system to him and showed him how to quickly find the book the borrower has requested to loan. They continued to show him various rooms and things he had to know in order to service the people who needed the help, afterwards Cosette and Bossuet let him try out the different things they had showed him. 

When the library opened for the public, Cosette and Bossuet were done with their tour and took their places at the desks and let Jehan stand with them in turns so he could observe how they handled the technical parts of the job. Jehan would not be able to actually work at the desk before he had had a crash course in IT with the technician, but he was currently on a course on how to improve their system, he would return in a couple of days time. 

* * *

At lunch they took turns to eat, so someone would always be available for those who needed it. Bossuet ate with the administration and Cosette moved to the front desk to stand with Jehan. Not many people were at the library at noon on a weekday, most of the elderly patrons came when the library opened and the children, their parents and students came around four in the afternoon, so Cosette and Jehan used the time to get to know each other, they mostly talked of literature and their educations. Once Bossuet came to relieve them and they went to lunch, their conversation had taken a natural transition from Cosette telling stories about their co-workers to a more personal aspect of their lives. Cosette told of how her father had managed to convince everyone that it was a good idea to open another (and better) library in the city and that Valjean wasn't biologically her father, and how she had been adopted after being in the system (unsuccessfully) most of her life.

Jehan, being a bit more shy than Cosette, talked mostly of his reasoning of his choice of education. He was a lover of languages and the cultures of foreign countries and had striven to learn as many as possible. He told Cosette of his many travels, for as much as he loved languages, they were useless to him if he couldn't use them in their right element - with the natives. Books were a good substitute, but Jehan had no doubt that the best way to enjoy a book was to read it in its native tongue, in the language's country among the citizens. Which was also why Jehan dreamed of traveling around the world. To absorb all the cultures he could in this lifetime was his main goal of life. 

That was of course not saying that he wanted to get away from his life. He quite liked it there. Now, he had a job. He already had great friends (even though, they could be very annoying, but they wouldn't really be friends if they didn't annoy each other, would they?) He assured Cosette of this when she asked if that was the reason why he wanted to live in another place, because he lacked friends where he was. 

When Cosette and Jehan had found their food and sat down at a table, Cosette encouraged him to tell her more of his friends. Jehan happily complied. He told a bit of how they met, he honestly thought it was a good story, but when Cosette only knew him and not the others, he didn't bother telling it in its full length. It was only funny when they all told it. Instead Jehan chose to tell how happy they all were that he had finally gotten a job and how they had, when he'd texted to inform them of his new status of employment, each sent back a congratulation and bullied him (not really bullying, they knew he would agree) into meeting them at a café to celebrate once he got his schedule. Jehan told Cosette that he suspected that they had planned this the moment they heard him use the words “job” and “hunting” in the same sentence (Which was at least a few months ago). Cosette just laughed and said that friends were supposed to do such things. 

“Friends tease and make fun each other when they are comfortable with one another,” Cosette assured him. 

Jehan held his glass of water to his lips as he gained courage to ask Cosette what he'd been waiting since the night before. He took a long sip and said,” Speaking of teasing.”

“Yes, what about it,” she asked.

“Last night, when you left and I closed the library.” His eyes searched Cosette's face for any signs. “I got this, this message if you will.”

Cosette scratched her neck. “Message?”

“On a pile of books, kind of a puzzle. It said I had to find a letter in each book. It spelled out _Welcome to my library!_ It was kind of creepy. The writing on the note didn't seem like yours.”

 _But was it?_ Hang as an unspoken question between them. His companion gazed thoughtfully at him. Jehan thought he could see a bit of panic arise in her eyes, but when she broke into a big, apologetic smile, he disregarded it. 

“You got me. It was me. I thought it would be fun, it wasn't meant to be creepy. Sorry. Can you forgive me?” 

Jehan gave her a relieved smile. “Of course. It was just a joke. No harm done. I was just uneasy about it because it was dark, I was alone a big room and it was a new place. Quite clever actually, one of my friends could have thought it up.”

At this Cosette laughed and Jehan continued to talk of the antics of his friend, Bahorel. Cosette laughed at all the right moments and soon their lunch break was over and they had to continue working. 

Jehan had expected that Cosette wouldn't react well to the accusation, but to Jehan's great relief, they continued working with no bad feelings between them. On the contrary actually, they were joking around and generally having a great time until the work of the day was over. 

* * *

As much as Jehan loved his friends, he knew they were an eccentric bunch. He had met Joly and Grantaire first and later Bahorel had joined their little group. How Bahorel came into their lives, no one really knew. Suddenly, he was just there and they accepted him as one of their own. Jehan and Joly had already met in school and though they had not been the closest of friends, they had somehow kept in contact when they started at university. Perhaps that was why they had gotten closer, because they were students at the same place – despite being in different departments. Joly studied medicine whereas Jehan had studied literature in all the languages he could. At some point they had become room-mates and after a short while, when they found out that they would handle the rent much better if they were one more, Grantaire came into the picture. He had seen the notice and soon the three of them lived together and quickly became close friends. 

Later, they always joked of how good it was that they had quickly become such good friends. If they hadn't, they would have ended up being each others' mortal enemies, all driven crazy by the others' peculiarities. 

Joly had a tendency to be a firm believer of very alternative things, when he needed to decide something he would throw coins – one of the more normal things he did – to decide, if he had several things to decide between, whether it be clothes, gifts for friends or which book to read first, he would use a pendulum or if the coin just didn't give him an answer (“ _This uneasiness I have, is it cause by the chicken I ate yesterday?”_ ). If he was sick, or Jehan or Grantaire showed any signs of sickness, he would try to heal himself, or them. He would also use herbs, warm stones, crystals, and on one memorable occasion acupuncture. Two other memorable occasions, which Jehan and Grantaire still laughed about, and which Bahorel mourned he wasn't present to experience, was the occasions with respectively the ghosts (Joly still claimed that he did the right thing, _“We don't have any ghosts now, do we?”_ ) and the angel ( _“Can you feel how protected we are now? No burglar will dare set foot in this building.”_ ). 

Grantaire would always have some electronic device running, some film (on occasion more than one) was always being watched or listened to. Grantaire had studied film, so there was always some movie to enjoy, interpret, pick to pieces. The downside for the other two was that whenever they sat down to enjoy a film, Grantaire would have an almost non-stop commentary on it. But the films were certainly an icebreaker when they had guests or just had nothing to talk about. In addition to this, Grantaire was fond of playing loud music – again, many different genres – all hours of the day. Joly had once tried to clean this habit out of Grantaire, who had merely said that no one should try to repress a dancer's need to express oneself. Not even if it meant that said dancer's room-mates would be woken up at two in the morning. 

Jehan liked to write his own things. Poetry, short stories, songs, speeches, essays, anything. Once inspiration struck him, he had to write it down. Immediately. He always carried a pen with him to these situations, and most of the time, a notepad to use. But the notepads would quickly be filled up. Not that it stopped inspiration from coming. Instead Jehan wrote on whatever was near him. Tables, chairs, himself, his friends, walls, once or twice the couch. What he wrote could be small sections from short stories he tried to write or another's work when a certain thing reminded him of a certain passage, it could be in any language, any calligraphy. And it would drive Joly and Grantaire absolutely crazy. Because of this, the three friends' always had a large amount of cleaning supplies.

One day when Joly and Jehan came home from their lectures they found Grantaire sitting with a stranger on the couch, both commenting loudly on the playing movie and with half-empty beers in front of them. The stranger introduced himself as Bahorel. How he and Grantaire had met, they didn't know and they never asked, but soon Bahorel was a regular presence in their group, and no one complained about it. 

After university, the four remained friends though their ways were separated. They lived in different neighborhoods – still the same city, though – and they all met new people, who became eventually became friends. Despite this, they always drifted back to each other again, time after time.

* * *

 

“New job, new people. What's it like?” The four friends sat in a café they had discovered in their years of university. It was the only place near them where they all could get what they wanted, and they had quickly become regulars. Even after university when they met there, on the rare occasion they didn't go to one of their own apartments.

“What was it, the popularity library?”

“Populare,” Jehan corrected. “The Library Populare. And it's been fine, I mean, I've only been there for two days. I like the people, they're really kind. Though, I haven't actually met them all. The IT-guy is at some course, so I can't use the system yet, which is a bit inconvenient.”

“Then why did they hire you now?” Grantaire asked. “Why not wait until IT-guy comes back?”

“That's actually a good question,” Joly acknowledged. Jehan nodded in agreement. 

Grantaire offended asked, “Why do you sound so surprised? I have plenty of great questions up here.” He pointed to his temple. Bahorel snorted in disbelief. “Hey!” Grantaire punched his friend in the shoulder. “Jerk,” he grumbled. “Why am I even friends with you? You two too,” he added at Joly and Jehan's poorly concealed laughs. 

“I guess they needed they extra help now, and couldn't wait until IT-guy came back. Besides, I don't mind filling up the shelves,” Jehan shrugged. 

“I don't know, it sounds boring,” Bahorel remarked. 

“It's not too bad, you can hear music at the same time and be in your own little world. And I'm also at the desks – supervised, of course,” he added with a smile. 

“Still, nothing exciting ever happens at a library,” Bahorel continued. “They can't even be used as a set in a horror movies. Not even the slightest bit scary.”

“Does a place have to be able to be the set in a horror movie to be exciting for you?” Joly asked with a hint of a smile. 

“No, of course not,” he huffed. “But I prefer it and the adrenalin-kick from it, compared to some of the other kind of sad excuses for films.”

“Hardly any horrors are artistic enough to be called a 'film',” Grantaire declared. 

“Then what do you call it?” Bahorel demanded.

“Hollywood.”

They all doubled over with laughter. Joly, who had just taken a sip, started coughing and once he was able to breathe again, he began to accuse Grantaire of negligent homicide. 

“My point still stands, nothing ever happens at a library. It's the most boring place on planet Earth,” Bahorel continued.

“I don't know about that. I got a greeting when yesterday. It was actually pretty creepy,” Jehan asserted. 

Bahorel snorted. “How can a _greeting_ of all things be creepy? Did it involve blood, gore, zombies?”

“Yes, of course it did, _lots of it_ ” Jehan quipped. “No, it was a Creepy Word Puzzle.” He continued with a frown.

“'Creepy Word Puzzle'?” Joly asked.

“Yes, The Creepy Word Puzzle. Because the others had some sort of emergency, they asked me to close the library and I was doing fine, until I saw a pile of books with a note on it.”

“Uh, scary, a pile of books and a _note_ on it,” Bahorel mocked. “I can see why you were scared.” 

“Shut up, you didn't let me finish,” Jehan reached across the table and hit his friend. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” he threw a mean look at Bahorel, ”there was a pile of books, and I swear it was not there before. I had just closed of the children's section when I turned around and there it was!” His friends laughed openly at Jehan. Later, if you asked them they would say it was mostly because of his expression and body language; his eyes were wide, he sat on the edge of his chair, his voice had raised an octave at the last word, and his arms were behaving as if he was telling a horror story at a camp fire.

Jehan lowered his arms and frowned. “Hey, stop laughing. I'm in the middle of telling you a real life horror story.”

Joly stifled his laughter and signed for the two others to do so as well. “Sorry, please continue. I believe you were at 'and there it was,' am I right?”

“Yes, there it was,” Jehan sent his friends a severe look, before he continued. “There were about twenty books in the pile and the note on top just said that every letter on a specific page, specific line and a specific word should be found. It spelled out “Welcome to my library”. I hurried through closing, went home and locked all windows and doors. I was freaked out!”

His friends looked at each other. Finally Joly broke the silence, “That... That is creepy.”

“Don't you think it's just your co-workers making fun of you. Sort of a welcome-ritual?”Bahorel asked.

“It could be. I asked Cosette, she's another librarian, and she said it was her,” Jehan looked uncertain.

“Well, then it must be her, right?” Bahorel reasoned. Upon looking at the frown on Jehan's face he continued, “but I'm sensing a 'but'. Spit it out, Prouvaire. There's something we haven't heard of your horror story. What is it?” 

“It's just, when I asked her about it, she looked like she was ready to panic, I guess. It was probably nothing, they were playing a gag on me and weren't counting on me figuring out, right?” He looked like he was reassuring himself more than his friends.

“Or,” Grantaire, who had kept silent through their conversation, began, “she was covering for someone,” he said with a smirk. “It is _Populare_ we're talking about.”

“What do you mean 'someone',” Grantaire sent Joly a pointed look, who looked confused for a moment before realization struck. “Oh, you mean _someone._ ”

“Mmhmm, I mean _someone_.” By now they were both smirking. 

“If _someone_ doesn't tell me who _someone_ is very soon, I will hit _someone_ and _someone_ will regret not telling me, “Bahorel growled. 

“Relax, no hitting anyone,” Grantaire laughed. “Haven't you two,” he addressed Bahorel and Jehan, “ever heard of-,” he took his glass and drank to make a rhetorical pause. 

Impatiently Bahorel took the glass out of his hands which made Grantaire almost choke on his drink. “Spit. Out.”

“The Phantom,” Grantaire said once he stopped coughing. 

“The Phantom?” Jehan asked incredulously.

“Yes, the Phantom,” Joly confirmed. “You really haven't heard the story, have you? It started years ago, when the world-”

“Oh, come on, what are we in? A musical?” Bahorel interrupted before Joly had a chance to continue. “Please, be serious. There is no such thing as phantoms.”

Grantaire and Jehan, who had both been looking at Joly's wide arm movements as he began his story looked unbelieving at their friend's outburst. Bahorel fidgeted at his three friends' look of unbelief and of being the center of attention. “What?” he snapped.

“You know that it's a musical?” Jehan asked innocently. 

“As a matter of fact, it's _two_ musicals,” Bahorel remarked. 

“Two musicals?” Grantaire taunted. “How do you know this?”

Bahorel sent him a look that could kill. “I have a sister.” 

“Nothing's wrong with liking musical theatre,” Jehan assured his friend kindly. 

“I know that,” Bahorel grumbled. “I still have a sister. Do continue with your stupid story, Joly.” 

Joly leaned back in his chair. “It's not stupid, and it's not a story. It really is what happened.” He took a sip of his drink and began. “A long time ago, when the world was at war with Mother Earth-”

“What? Mother Earth? I thought we were talking about the _library_?” Bahorel exclaimed.

“I agree,” Grantaire added. “So far, it's nothing like the story I've heard.”

Joly looked confused. “Firstly, I've only just begun. Two, that's pretty odd. My version first and then yours?” Grantaire nodded and Joly began, once again, his version of the story about the Phantom. 

He told them of how it all began when The Black Death raged Europe and the people died as were they flies. He told his friends of how mass graves began to appear because the people started to die faster than the gravediggers could bury them. At a time, he continued, one man was falsely thought to have the plague. He had had the symptoms, and even though his family and himself repeatedly said that he just had an allergy. No one listened. 

The city's inhabitants were all frightened, and one day, the city made a group that should do something, anything, about the man. The group decided that it was for the city's greater good to get rid of the man, they believed was the cause of the many deaths. 

One fateful night, the group came to the man's home, sneaked in without waking the rest of the house, they kidnapped the man and fled. They came to one of the mass graves which had not been closed yet as there was still room for a couple of bodies. The man, whom they had had to knock unconscious before they could coerce him into a bag, was now waking up and managed to get himself out of the bag. The group noticed once he was fully out and began to stagger away, in order to get him back into the bag to finally bury him and the other bodies, they attacked him. The man fought back, and the men had had to use all means to get him into the grave. Therefore, some of the men began to hit him, threatening to bite, and one even began to scratch the man's face and arms. Because of the scratching, the blisters on the man's skin broke and in panic and in fear of being infected, the men overpowered the man, got him into the bag and threw him into the grave which they started to fill. 

The man started to scream, wishing for someone, anyone to hear him and save him. No one came. Because of the bag's condition, it was full of holes, clothes moths and mould, dirt started to come into the man's face, and especially his wounds. He screamed even louder. Still no one came. Soon the group of men were done, the grave was full and they left to go home to their families. 

Years later, a library was build on top of the mass grave. No one knew that it was a resting place for the victims of the plague, so they build. Once the library was done and people started to work in it, not one person lasted longer than three months. The man had died unjust, he was not a victim of the plague. He became a ghost. To avenge himself and punish his murderers, who had died years ago, he punished those who dared tread the building on top of his grave. 

“And that,” Joly finished, “is the reason why the Phantom is haunting the library and why he wears a mask.”

“So because he didn't disinfect his wounds, he wears a mask?” Jehan questioned. 

“Sounds more like a lecture from the medical student,” Bahorel laughed. “And really, a _mask_?”

“No, Joly's right. The Phantom do wear a mask, but it's not because of any wounds,” Grantaire explained. 

“Of course it is,” Joly argued. “Even though you're wrong in your assumption, I'd still like to hear your version.”

“Ask and thou shall receive,” Grantaire replied. He leaned closer to his friends as if he was to tell them a secret, and then he began. “There was a man. He didn't have a single friend, he had never felt any kind of love, not even from his family. 

He had come to them as an infant. From where the family did not know. They were ready to leave him deep in a forest to die. Who had the nerve to leave a cripple in their care and believe that they would willingly take care of him? When the father of the family, who had been visiting a neighbouring city to help their young, newly educated priest, when the rest of the family found the child, came home and saw the child he immediately assumed that such a hideous child could only be a test from their god. A test to see if they really were true believers. The father, who himself was a priest, believed that the child must have meant that the family had been chosen to be seen as an example of goodness for the rest of the adherents of the religion. To show them all how kind and selfless they were to love such a hideous child as was he their own. 

But they didn't love him. In the beginning, they tried. They took care of ham and helped him whenever he needed it, he was after all just a child. As he grew up, they lost interest, not even the threat of being judged by the village and punished by their god could make them love or even just care about the boy. They thought him to be too tiresome. They were constantly irritated by him. Most of the time, they just left him alone and let him learn everything by himself. 

When the boy reached the age of discretion – though he didn't know what it was. No one had told him – he ran away. Over a span of years, he traveled far and wide, across many countries, searching for someone, _anyone,_ to be his friend. Unsurprisingly, he found none. Everywhere he traveled, people laughed at him, called him names and told him it was better for everyone if he just died. As you can imagine, if people tell you something enough times, you start to believe it. The boy, who had now become a man, was no different. He believed that he was unworthy of living on this earth. He no longer had, if he'd ever had any, faith in humanity. Eventually, he ended up here in this very city. 

The city council had, a couple of years before the man arrived, decided that the city needed a new library, since the old had been burned down. So when the man arrived in the city, and saw a half-finished building with ongoing construction, it seemed like the perfect place to die. In the night he went to, what would become the basement, and used a knife to cut his throat. He sank to the floor and the last he felt was relief. He was finally going to be in a better place. But, you see, he didn't die of this. A few hours later, he woke up drenched in his own blood and very much alive. His suicide had not let him die, but it did kill him. He was miserable and for days he committed suicide in the most brutal ways. Hanging, drowning, starving. He tried everything, but he always woke up again, and every time with even more scorn for himself. Ultimately, the man ran out of ways to kill himself, and he decided to hide in the cellar to die of old age. 

But when the construction work and the interior was finished and people began to use it, some wanted to use the cellar to storage. The man would not accept this, so to scare people away, he began to act like the phantom he was. He made books fall from their places, misplaced various things, and just generally haunted the place. He even let some people see him in the cellar to ensure no one would ever set foot in it ever again. They were to frightened by his hideous exterior to work there and soon no one did. The library had been abandoned. One evening, when the only living things in the library, apart from our phantom, were spiders, once he fell asleep, he had a dream. An angel came to him and told him that it was not his fault that he now lived like this, it was the priest and his family. If only they had given him the love he deserved, he would have had a happy life. But in their religion, the angel continued, suicides were frowned upon and until the man had righted his wrong he would not be allowed to die. He was doomed to live forever until he learned to love one soul, and have that soul love him in return.”

“So kind of like _Beauty and the Beast_?” Bahorel asked when Grantaire stopped for a moment to drink. 

Joly and Jehan snickered. Grantaire sent them a look and continued. “The point is, once Valjean began to restore the library, the man saw his chance to redeem himself, so he started to act nicer towards everyone in order to, hopefully, find someone to love and who could also love him. But because of his looks, he can't just appear and court a love interest like normal people.”

“I thought it was only what's on the inside that counted?” Joly interrupted. 

Grantaire groaned. “Would you... Just... He's very old, what does he know?” When he saw his friends opening their mouths to answer, he added, “Rhetorical question. Don't answer. Anyway, the Phantom is only haunting because he needs love to move on to the other side.”

Bahorel, Joly and Jehan sat in a stunned silence, before Jehan finally asked, “Do you honestly believe that?” 

Grantaire huffed. “Of course not. Angels and true love doesn't exist. And neither does immortality.”

“I told you my version is better,” Joly grinned. 

“Hey, we should let Jehan decide that. After all, he's the only one of us who's had a close encounter of the second kind.” Bahorel pointed out. 

“I think you're both ridiculous,” Jehan stated after a moment. “Phantoms, plague, angels... What's next? Aliens?”

“But you love us despite our eccentricities,” Joly countered. 

Jehan smiled. “Of course. But come on. Cosette said it was her. She probably just expected I wouldn't ask, because I'd heard of the story of the Phantom. Which I hadn't. So I wasn't scared to death. But since you both had very different stories, are there more than two stories floating around?”

“Doubt it. I pieced mine together from bits and pieces from here and there, what about you Joly?”

Joly nodded. “Yeah, me too. Though there is a couple of other theories, but they are all very unlikely.”

“More than yours?” Bahorel laughed. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” His words were dripping with sarcasm. “No seriously, there are some theories that deals with aliens, vampires and I even think there are some with werewolves.” 

Bahorel seemed to weigh the possibilities. “Touché. I get your point.”

“Yes, that's all very nice. So, now that we've reached an agreement on how plausible my own and Joly's stories are compared to others', let's get a refill.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea of how a library works. There's probably more than three librarians, probably more than two people in the administration. Plus, when you're just hired you probably don't start working right away.  
> Please bear with me. Creative freedom, right?


End file.
